


Wanna Run Away With You

by gaialux



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: First Time, Fix-It of Sorts, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-26 10:13:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20740547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaialux/pseuds/gaialux
Summary: A coda for ‘The Obliged’. Daryl confronts Rick about Negan, and they both express their feelings.





	Wanna Run Away With You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tommygirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tommygirl/gifts).

They land with a loud _ thump _ less than a second apart. Daryl rolls over, dazed as the sun and clouds seem too far away, and scrambles to his feet. Next to him, Rick lies winded. Part of Daryl wants to help him up, but the other part is still seething. Keeping Negan alive? Forcing Maggie — hell, forcing _ Daryl _— to see him every damn day was a torture Daryl didn’t think Rick capable of.

Rick does finally get to his feet.

~~

Daryl would — _ still would _ — die for Rick. He might have been a killer, a thief, a no-good bastard but he ain’t no liar. Those words he’d spoken to Rick were gospel truth.

“I never asked them to follow me.” Rick’s voice cracks on the words and he runs a hand over his face. Salt-and-pepper beard giving way to salt-and-sugar instead.

“I know.” Then, softer. “I know. But maybe you should have.”

Daryl can’t read the look Rick gives him; only knows it sends a chill through his spine. Rick’s always been able to do that to him and here, in this dark and dank hole, it’s so much more prominent. A leader through and through, one Daryl will follow through to the end.

Then Rick sighs, and the gaze breaks as he turns back to the dirt walls. “So any ideas?”

“You got any grappling hooks in that utility belt of yours?”

That earns Daryl the slightest hint of a smile. “Might have to call in Batman for those.”

“A cell phone would be good, too.” Daryl pauses. “If anyone else had one.”

The smile widens into a full bloom, and Daryl wants to soak it in. Hold it close and keep the mental image even when Rick goes back to being hard and closed off.

But, as quick as it appeared, the smile is gone again and Daryl wonders if maybe he imagined it to begin with.

Rick digs a finger into the dirt and it crumbles away.

“Keep that up and it’ll bury us.”

No smile. No emotion. Just turning back to the walls and staring up toward the sun. In the distance Daryl swears he can hear walkers.

They only have knives. Three between them. Two fucking pigstickers and a machete. Daryl shoves one of the knives into the dirt wall, shoves the other, but the moment he shifts his weight onto them he’s sent tumbling down.

“Fuck!” He grabs them out of the wall and throws them to the ground, a loud and echoing clatter. Rick does little more than continue staring skyward.

“You know,” Daryl says. That anger from earlier coursing back up and, really, why stop? It’s not like Rick can run away from the conversation. “You know even if we get out of here Negan’s gonna find a way to throw us right back in.”

“We’re not doing this again.”

“What else have we got to do?”

It has to be only a few hours until the sun starts setting, and longer before the rest of them even start to figure out where Rick and Daryl may have gone. The walkers will be on them by then. They might be slow and dumb but they were also perpetually hungry.

“Find a way out,” Rick says, not looking at him.

“Any ideas then, Batman?”

He looks at Daryl, finally. At most it’s defeat in his eyes — definitely no anger, no fight. Daryl thinks that’s even worse.

“I thought you were sick of my ideas.”

Daryl spits on the ground and wipes his mouth on the back of his hand.

“Do you want to lead us all?” Rick asks him. “Because you can, I’ll hand over the reins and let you make the choices.”

“Like you’d give up your badge, Sheriff.”

Rick shakes his head, scoffs. “You think I wanted any of this? I stepped up, helped y'all keep surviving, and for what?” He lowers his voice. “I know people are dead because of me — can you admit the same?”

It’s a punch in the gut, and Rick has to know it.

“I was better on my own,” Daryl mutters. He knows it isn’t true; he and Merle tried it on their own, Merle kept going, and look where it got him. No, Daryl _ knows _he owes Rick his life.

“When we get out of here,” Rick says, turning his eyes back to freedom, “You’re welcome to go wherever you please.”

Daryl isn’t expecting Rick’s words to knock the wind out of him. A sensation of coldness washes over him and he turns away, walks to the other side of the hole, and presses his hand against the crumbling dirt. A breath. A blink.

“I stuck with you, didn’t I?” Daryl finally gains enough composure to say. “Even when you kicked me and my brother out I still came back to you.”

Rick takes a few steps closer and Daryl wonders if he’s about to punch him. At least physical violence is something Daryl can react to: fight back, prove his point that way. Get Negan shot and have them all move on. Back to the wilderness, back to survival. It’s a world Daryl understands. Not all this political mind game shit.

“You did,” Rick says. “And I am thankful for that. I am. But things are different out here now. You know that. We aren’t waiting for the government to find some cure and let us go back home — we’re surviving and we need to learn to thrive.”

“Why?” Daryl knows he sounds like a whiny, petulant child but he has to know. “We were fine at the prison, at the farm. Why do you need to make everyone play big, happy family?”

_ We were fine as a family, _ he silently to himself. Even if they’ve lost so many, they were still a family.

“Because we need to rely on people, Daryl,” Rick says. “We have enough enemies without turning all of Alexandria against us.”

“And this isn’t just for Carl?” Daryl asks. “Because you have some messed up idea that you have to avenge him? Carl wouldn’t want that.”

“You don’t—“ Rick raises his voice, just for a moment, and Daryl finds himself flinching. “I’m not...I’m doing this for the group, for the greater good of all of us. Don’t you want to live in safety? In _ peace _? We could make Alexandria a home. I could give Judith a home.”

The last part is a stark contrast, his voice almost breaking on Judith’s name. Daryl closes the distance between them and touches his hand to Rick’s shoulder.

“Okay,” he says. “I understand that. I know you just want her safe.”

“I want _ all _ of you safe.”

It’s the same thing Daryl has always wanted, he and he can’t fault Rick. All his actions may have lead them here — to duking things out with Negan and trying to figure out their next step — but it also saved them from walkers and other people time and time again.

Daryl isn’t sure how it happens, but suddenly Rick has him pressed against the damp earth, mouth hot on his. He feels paralysed, unable to move or respond to anything Rick’s doing. Too much, but he wants _ more _, and everything swirls and courses through his body until Rick breaks away.

Daryl tried to find his tongue, is about to ask what just happened, when the sound of shuffling and groans is louder. Closer.

“Shit,” Rick says, looking up. Daryl still can’t find his voice.

A walker falls in and Daryl jumps. Another. Rick throws himself forward and Daryl kicks into action. Knives in hand, he shoves them into two of the walkers’ necks and down they go. Another stumbles over the edge with a sound between groan and roar. It hits Daryl’s shoulder, sends him stumbling, and he looks up as Rick grabs hold of a root and starts hoisting himself up.

Walkers keep tumbling in as Daryl attempts to follow Rick’s path, but the roots are too thin and he can’t get a proper grip. Rick is out, a loud slam as his body makes contact with grass.

“Daryl, you’ve got to hurry. Hurry!”

He can hear walkers above and below him. Deep, continual growls that seem to bounce and echo all around. He stabs another. Another. But there’s too many too fast. A hand brushes his foot and he kicks it away, lunging forward and up.

“Take my hand.”

Rick is there, looking over the edge, branches gripped in his hand. No. Daryl can do it. He can make it. Always been on his own, always been able to figure things out. He digs harder into the dirt with his stubby nails.

“You’re almost there. Come on,” Rick says. He’s holding down his hand, fingers twisting against Daryl’s. Daryl is caught on the image of their mouths, their bodies together. He stumbles, slides down a couple of inches, and walker hands grab at him. “You’re almost there.”

He looks up at Rick. Over his shoulder more walkers are ambling over. His hand is outstretched, tendons and muscles popping. Behind him, walkers.

“Please,” Rick says, caught somewhere between begging and demanding. “Please. Take my hand.”

Daryl reaches out. Grabs strong, tight fingers, and is hoisted up and over.

~~

Back to Alexandria. Back to the Safe Zone. Nobody even seems to notice they were gone and part of Daryl wants to pull away, to track down Maggie or Negan and finish what needs to be done, but Rick is there. Close enough Daryl can feel the heat radiating and smell the sour sweat from their escape. It awakens something in him, makes him ache. So he follows Rick into the house instead.

At the entrance, Rick kicks off his shoes and tears off his dirt covered shirt. Daryl’s gaze is trapped on the ripples of muscle under Rick’s skin. He has scars running all over and Daryl thinks he can name some of them, pinpoint where they came from, and he even knows he placed a few there with his own hands.

“Come on,” Rick says, turning to him. Daryl knows his cheeks are red and burning, but Rick doesn’t say anything.

Daryl follows him through the house, up the stairs, and only realises as he’s clomping up that he still has filthy boots laced to his feet.

He must stop. Rick looks back at him, down at his feet. He shrugs. “Clean it up later.”

It sounds as good an idea as any. They continue up the stairs, turn, and Daryl knows where they’re heading.

Nobody’s around, and that alone seems strange — makes Daryl want to ask Rick if it was somehow planned — but he knows that’s a stupid thought.

The bathroom is cold compared to outside, and Daryl sees goosebumps rise up over Rick’s skin. Rick switches on the lights and with it the whir of heat and fan. Daryl’s mouth is dry.

“Do you—“ Rick says, turning back to Daryl. “Is this okay? I’m sorry. I— Should we talk?”

Daryl doesn’t know what to say. Just that he wants more of whatever is happening today. That he’s sorry he brought up Carl, that he pushed Rick, that he threatened to leave. This _ is _ his home. Rick made it a home for all of them. And the usually self-assured Rick is stumbling over words and that must be what gives Daryl the courage to cautiously step forward and presses a small kiss to Rick’s lips.

Now, Rick doesn’t stall before undoing his belt buckle, dropping his pants, and leaning into the shower stall to adjust the faucet. Water hisses out and rains down on the tiles and glass. Steam rising immediately and Daryl is stuck, transfixed, on the rest of Rick’s body.

Rick steps inside and under. Water beads over him, collects in his hair and drips down. Daryl can’t tear his eyes away. Stray droplets hit Daryl’s socks from the open shower door.

“Get in,” Rick says, throwing a look over his shoulder. It sends Daryl’s heart — his whole body — into overdrive.

Mechanically, he undresses. Down to his underwear. Then he pauses, sudden embarrassment coursing through his body. What is he doing? How the hell did he get here? Two hours ago they were stuck in a hole preparing to fight off walkers. Now. _ Here _.

“Daryl,” Rick says. He has to almost yell above the shower but his words somehow remain gentle.

It’s enough. This is Rick. Naked and wet and hot as fuck but still _ Rick _. A sense of calm washes over Daryl and he steps out of his boxers, completely naked, the steam and sprays of water already hitting him. One step, two step, and he’s in the warm shower. Less than an inch separating him from Rick’s bare body. 

“There,” Rick says. A smile. “Isn’t that better?”

Before Daryl can answer Rick is on him again, but this time it isn’t hurried. Soft, asking. Daryl opens up to him; knows he’s clumsy but doesn’t care because it feels so fucking good and he knows Rick will guide him. Rick kisses deeper. 

The water is hot, almost scalding, although Daryl wonders if it’s really the shower setting his body alight. He’s never done this before — never even close — and his brain is reeling to catch up on everything going on.

A hand wanders down and cups Daryl’s ass. He jumps, breaks the kiss, and the water cascades between the space left.

“Hey,” Rick says. More mouths — too quiet to hear above the shower. “It’s alright.”

Rick reaches out, just slightly, his eyes asking. A second. A breath. Daryl stuck again on _ how? how am I here? _But it’s not a bad thing. None of this is.

Daryl moves back into Rick’s arms, lets both hands pull him closer and cover his slick skin. Mouth against his then down, sucking the skin under his chin and down his neck. Daryl is hard, aching, and can feel Rick pressed up against him.

_ I did this, _ Daryl thinks. He lets himself reach down and brush his fingertips across Rick’s cock. Rick lets out a soft sound right into Daryl’s mouth. It sounds like _ Daryl _.

Rick pulls away slightly, pumps some of the fruity smelling body wash into his hands and slides them over Daryl’s skin. Working up a bubbly lather and catching the dirt and grime as they watch it circle down the drain. His fingers scratch against Daryl’s scalp and run through his hair. Daryl allows himself to relax, to let Rick’s hands guide him, and to focus on the here. The now.

Rick’s touch trails down to take hold of Daryl’s cock, hot and wet like the rest of them. It’s different than anything he’s felt before; not his own hand, not knowing exactly what’s about to happen. He wants to ask Rick if he’s done this before, but then Rick’s grip tightens, runs Daryl’s length, and Daryl’s brain cuts out.

“Water’s gonna get cold,” Rick says into his ear as he continues his touching-washing hybrid of actions.

Daryl couldn’t care less. He could be shoved into a world of snow and ice and be happy so long as Rick was here against him.

“The others wouldn’t be too happy.”

He has a point. Communal living and all that. Still, Daryl’s brain is much more focused on what Rick’s hand is doing on his cock.

“Okay,” Daryl says finally, somehow finding his voice.

Rick shuts off the shower and Daryl shivers at the sudden rush of cool air. They step out, Rick’s body brushing against Daryl and warming him again. He grabs them both a towel, white and fluffy, and Daryl tucks it around himself with fumbling fingers.

Wordlessly, Rick takes his hand and leads him to the closest bedroom — it happens to be Daryl’s. Rick shuts the door behind them.

He’s still damp when he lets Rick guide him onto the bed. Still better than the blood and walker guts that have coated the sheets multiple times before. Rick drops down beside him, water sliding down his body and glistening in the light from the window.

“I’ve never—“ Daryl finds himself suddenly saying, feeling the heat rise to his cheeks. Even kissing had been beyond his realm of expertise.

Confusion etches on Rick’s face before giving way to recognition and something else Daryl can’t quite read. He hopes it’s not disappointment or, worse, regret. “Oh.”

The sudden self-consciousness is growing and Daryl grabs for his towel. This was a stupid idea. A stupid situation. What was he _ thinking _?

Rick’s hand rests on Daryl’s thigh, thumb stroking. “We can stop?”

“If you want to,” Daryl says. He’s sorry for pushing it.

Daryl trails his eyes down Rick’s body and lingers on his hard cock. It jumps in front of his eyes, and Daryl feels the pull in his own body. He wants this. The first thing he’s truly, achingly wanted in a long, long time.

It’s Daryl’s turn to reach out. To touch. Soft skin that feels so similar to his own. Rick grips Daryl’s thigh tighter.

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” Daryl says, surprised at the confidence in his voice. “This okay?”

“Yeah,” Rick says. His voice is heavy. “Yeah, just like that.”

Daryl trails the length of Rick’s cock, swirling his thumb around the head and earning him another groan from Rick. He doesn’t care when Rick pushes the towel aside and takes hold of Daryl. He mirrors the actions as Rick begins but has to pull away. Quickly. All of it too much.

“I still want...” he says, though isn’t sure how to finish the sentence. _ You _. That’s all. He wants Rick. Has for longer than he’s willing to admit. Knew for certain when Rick came back to Alexandria and caught Daryl in his arms. Whispered that he was okay, they were all okay, and Daryl never wanted him to let go.

Rick gently presses Daryl onto his back and climbs onto him. Straddling him and finding his mouth. It’s still warm and wet even without the shower and this is something Daryl could get used to — or find outright addictive.

He smells of soap, of earth, and distinctly _ Rick _. A smell Daryl has come to recognise gave him a sense of home, of safety — all the things Rick has provided for him.

“So what do you want to do?” Rick asks, fingers brushing up and down Daryl’s slightly protruding ribs.

_ Everything _. Everything there is to do and see and taste and feel. So long as Rick is along for the ride with him.

“Whatever you want,” are the words Daryl manages to get out.

“Mmm.”

Daryl thinks it must be a noncommittal sound as Rick’s mouth continues its way down. Only once he’s reached Daryl’s belly does Daryl realises where he’s going. He thinks to protest — to tell Rick he doesn’t have to do _ that _ , he can do something Rick himself will _ enjoy _ — but Rick is there then on him, teasing the head of Daryl’s cock into his mouth.

Warmth envelopes Daryl. Everything else in the world starts fading away and it’s Rick and him. Here. On clean, white sheets in Alexandria. In a safe haven.

Daryl can’t stop the moans that break through his lips as Rick takes him deeper. He brings a hand to Rick’s hair, rugs gently. “Hey, Rick—“

Rick pulls off with a soft, wet sound and Daryl shudders against him. “No good?”

“No, you—“ Daryl can’t find a way to make the words come out. “I just thought you might—“

“You want me to fuck you?” Rick deadpans. Daryl feels his body flush again. “Or you want to—?”

Daryl knows there’s no way he can trust his voice. Even his hand is shaking when it takes Rick’s and draws it lower. Rick brushes over Daryl’s balls then down. Electric shocks zig-zag up Daryl’s spine.

“I’ll be right back.”

Daryl watches as Rick leaves the room. He’s aware of the slight breeze rushing through his cracked open window and the silence from the rest of the house. Mostly he’s aware of how turned on he is and how much he wants Rick.

A moment later Rick returns with the same body wash from the shower in his hand.

“Not ideal,” Rick says, shutting the door behind him. “But...”

He shrugs and comes back over to the bed. Lips on Daryl’s again, mouth urging, and Daryl’s starting to get the hang of things. It’s a quick learning curve — the same as everything else since the damn apocalypse.

Rick squirts some of the translucent liquid into his hand, rubs it around on his fingers. “Can’t say I’ve ever done this either.”

The words make Daryl feel equal bits relieved and terrified; he can fuck up expectations, but at least he can’t fuck up an unknown reality.

Rick touches Daryl’s hole again, this time time Daryl starts, only slightly, at the coldness against him.

“Sorry,” Rick says pulling his hand away.

“It’s okay.”

This time Daryl is ready for it. Even ready for the slow intrusion as Rick presses a finger inside. It’s uncomfortable but not unpleasant and Daryl shifts with it. He has to fight back the urge to pull away; the _ queerwrongfag _ embedded somewhere deep. Something his daddy had instilled in him long ago and boys at school solidified. Daryl rarely even let himself look.

“Good?” Rick asks.

“Yeah,” Daryl says, looking up between his bangs to take in more of Rick’s face.

Intense concentration is coating Rick’s features — it’s a look Daryl has seen him show the rest of the group when giving orders or demanding updates. It’s a look Daryl has never received all for himself.

Soon, the feeling of Rick’s finger gives way to fully pleasure. He inserts another, checks with Daryl that it’s okay, then crooks up into him. Those same sparks that exploded when Rick put his mouth on Daryl appear again.

Rick grins. “Now I can tell it’s good.”

Daryl’s response is more or less a grunt; his ability to form words is somewhere distant.

Rick continues what he’s doing, adds more lube as it starts to dry up, until Daryl is writhing beneath him. Any earlier embarrassment or vulnerability is gone as he focuses on how _ good _ this is. How good _ Rick _is making him feel.

“I wanna see you,” Rick says.

Anything Rick asks of him, he’s willing to do. Daryl lets Rick flip him onto his stomach and pull up his hips, ass in the air.

He can feel lube dripping down his thighs and the tackiness on Rick’s hands against his hips. Rick shifts again and Daryl can feel his hard cock against his ass.

“Gonna be inside you,” Rick says, right up against Daryl’s ear. Daryl shivers. “You ready?”

He nods. At least he thinks he does. Everything about this is so surreal. He feels the head of Rick’s cock, a delicious burn, then the remainder pushing inside of him. Filling him. Rick’s stomach flush against Daryl and they’re moving in one motion.

_ Just like hunting _, Daryl thinks and wants to laugh at the absurdity of it.

One of Rick’s hands rests between Daryl’s shoulder blades and the other wraps around Daryl’s waist. Holding them as close as possible, a thin sheen of sweat washing over Daryl’s back. Heat runs through Daryl’s body; starting at his cock and ass and rising up. All encompassing.

Years of wanting this, of wanting Rick in any way he could possibly get him. A friend? A brother? It didn’t matter but, Daryl has to admit, this is what he most wanted deep down.

It doesn’t last nearly long enough. Rick speeds up and his breathing grows frantic, the hand on Daryl’s waist finding its way to his cock and taking hold.

“Fuck,” Rick says into Daryl’s back. Then indistinguishable sounds that send Daryl tumbling over the edge with a suppressed shout.

Rick holds him, gentle, as he pulls out and uses the filthy top sheet to clean them both off. He’s got a bright smile on his face, blissed out, and Daryl thinks he must be a mirror. After tossing away the sheet he climbs back in next to Daryl. Naked still. Back to stomach but this time lying down.

“I’m sorry about what I said,” Daryl whispers. He’s not sure he can trust his voice yet. “About Carl.”

Rick smooths a hand down Daryl’s arm. “It’s okay,” he says, just as quiet. “I understand. I know you just want to keep everyone safe — and Negan is a liability. I get that. I do.”

“So what do we do?”

“Sleep,” Rick whispers into Daryl’s ear. “We’ve had a big day.”

“And I would die for you,” Daryl says. “A thousand times over. I’d follow you anywhere.”

Daryl knows he’s rambling, but he can’t stop. His eyelids are already closing, his body heavy and lax. It’s like everything has gone from coiled wire to languid dough. He could get used to this.

“You don’t need to die for me,” Rick says. “_ Live _for us, for all of us — I would follow you, and I know the others would, too.”

Daryl turns over to face Rick. “I don’t want that.”

Rick brushes a hand through Daryl’s hair, letting wet strands fall over Daryl’s shoulders and the bed. “But if we had to.”

“We don’t,” Daryl says. “We’re safe here, you said that. No matter what happens with Negan.”

“I’m not keeping him alive to hurt Maggie.” He stops his hand and keeps it steady on Daryl’s head instead. “Or you. I know what he did to you—”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not.” He looks so serious, eyes boring into Daryl’s. “It’s not okay and we are going to figure out what’s best for everyone. Okay?”

Tiredness sweeps further over Daryl. He wants Rick to run his hands through his hair again. He wants Rick to hold him. Years of everything finally falling down on top of him. “Okay.”

~~

The next morning at breakfast, Rick comes up behind Daryl and squeezes his shoulder. Daryl doesn’t startle like he usually might and instead finds himself leaning into the touch.

“We’ll figure out what to do about Negan,” Rick says, up against Daryl’s ear. Then loud enough for everyone else: “Sound all right to all of you?”

It might not be perfect; Daryl knows that. But he trusts Rick and knows he will make the right choices for all of them. If that means Negan alive for a bit longer, Daryl can survive it. The memories of last night will keep him going.

“Yeah,” he says, a chorus to the others. “Sounds good.”


End file.
